How to Tell a True Candy Story

It happened, to me, nearly twenty years ago, and I still recall that candy bar with those giant peanuts and the soft munching noise behind me at the airport. Up on the second floor there were tiny, happy children, but no adults at all, and I remember the masses spreading out over the balcony where Mother Theresa and Bart Simpson were playing catch with a Snicker's bar. Brad Pitt sat snapping his fingers. Ashley Olsen and Operah and George Washington were dozing, or half dozing, and all around us were those chaotic children.
Except for the laughter things were quiet.
At, one point I recall , Brad Pitt turned and looked at me , not quite nodding, as if to alert me about something, as if he already knew, then after awhile he snapped his fingers and walked away.
It's hard to tell you what happened next.
They were just eating. There was a noise, I suppose, which must've been the candy, so I glanced behind me and watched Theresa step from the balcony into bright sunlight. Her face was suddenly clear and shinning. A beautiful lady, really. Sharp brown eyes, small and hunched, and when she ate it was almost dazzling, the way the sunlight came around her and lifted her up and munching her chocolate by a tree full of moss and vines and white blossoms.

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